


Five People Who Could Have Said Something So The Seedling Wouldn't Have To

by Chrononautical



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Remix, The Seedling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 14:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrononautical/pseuds/Chrononautical
Summary: In any romance, there are moments when it can all change. When promises can be made, or words can go unsaid.Five ways Bilbo and Thorin might have gotten engaged in mySeedlingAU, but didn't.





	Five People Who Could Have Said Something So The Seedling Wouldn't Have To

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heresie_irisee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heresie_irisee/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Seedling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14509296) by [Chrononautical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrononautical/pseuds/Chrononautical). 



> This story is for heresie_irisee, who said, _"I half-want a series of one-shots like "5 ways it could have all been cleared up sooner". Everything from either of them describing a romantic proposal they witnessed in one of their letters, to one of them breaking down and dishonourably/unrespectably begging for a proposal at some point."_ Which of course I had to write. Because, believe it or not, no one gets more frustrated with the communication failures I write about in these longer works than me.

**Thorin**

An enormous honeybee drifted lazily overhead, its gentle buzz filling Thorin’s ears with a song other than Bilbo’s soft, eager hums. She was so sweet beneath him. The taste of her kiss outshone Beorn’s honey as the sun did the stars. He ached for her, and now she lay unclothed before him. Yet his life was one of self discipline. He could not afford to fall or falter. His people could not afford it. Not while he finally undertook the quest that could reclaim their lost homeland. 

“I cannot,” he said, pulling away from her. And the saying of it made it so. “I will court you in any way you like, but this,” he murmured, kissing her again to prove his desire. Then once more, because she smiled at him. 

“Of course, Thorin.” Bilbo’s breath came hard and fast, but she continued to smile as she pulled her dress back up over her bosom. “You’re right. Whatever you want.” 

“I want to,” he assured her. “More than anything. But I cannot until we are at least engaged. I have a duty to my line and to my people.” 

“Oh.” Bilbo blushed and looked away toward the flowers of Beorn’s garden. As well she should. It was a remarkably forward sentiment. “I shall certainly marry you if you like, Thorin.” 

Thorin laughed, kissing her again. “That is a handsome promise, my burglar. But it is not a proposal. You must name a bride price.” 

Bilbo blinked. “You mean, I propose? Among dwarves it is the lass who does so? How very peculiar!” She sat up, looking to Thorin with bright, eager eyes. “And I suppose you have been dreaming of the day since you were a young lad! Well, tell me how it is done, and I will do it properly. Shall I give you a posy as a hobbit would?” 

It was Thorin’s turn to blush. “No. I am unfamiliar with the ways of hobbits, but you do not give me a gift. You ask one of me, and when I have given it we are engaged.” At the soft, heated look in her eyes, Thorin added quickly, “It cannot be only a flower. It must be something more permanent. A treasure of great value. Many treasures, even, for your worth is beyond price. Perhaps something I can reclaim from Erebor or forge with the gold we win there.” 

Leaning forward, Bilbo kissed him, running a hand through his hair. When she pulled back, one of his braids remained in her hand, like a teather binding them together. “These beads you wear are very heavy,” she said. “There must be quite a bit of silver here.” 

“True silver,” Thorin told her, his heart hammering strangely in his chest. “Mithril. It can be found only in Khazad-dum, which has been lost to us far longer than Erebor. This bead is an heirloom, passed through my family for generations.” 

“Valuable, then?” Bilbo asked. Innocent mirth sparkled in her eyes. 

“Priceless,” Thorin said. 

“Give it to me,” she said.

He did.

**Bilbo**

The ramparts of Erebor were covered in ice. Not so very long ago, Thorin held Bilbo by the neck over them, dangling her across the precipice of death. There was a strange irony in that, though the hobbit was not in a position to appreciate it. She clung to them then as she clung to them now, melting the snow beneath her hand. 

She did not want to say goodbye, but what else could she say? Thorin knew she was pregnant. If he did not ask her to stay for that, he was never going to ask her to stay at all. As he should not. She stole the Arkenstone from him. The heart of the mountain. In taking it, she knew she lost any chance of keeping the heart of the king. 

At least he was alive. All her friends were. They survived an impossible battle through the alliance with the elves and men which Bilbo’s share of the treasure bought. Bilbo was willing to call that a fair trade and go home, except for one small thing. One small thing that grew bigger with each passing day. 

The hobbit broke. Turning to Thorin, she forgot her pride and begged. “Please, Thorin. You must help me. As a friend, if nothing else. I am utterly terrified of this. I cannot raise a child on my own. I don’t even like babies! Once they’re old enough to play games and listen to stories, I do all right, but I’ve no idea what to do with a baby! And this is going to be half a dwarf! What if it needs shoes? He, right? I should call it a he. Or a she. My word. What if it’s a daughter? What if it’s a son?! I’m not even sure how you lot go to the bathroom while standing up, and I’ll have to show him. There will be no one else to do it. And how to wear shoes, if he needs them. Only, I know even less about shoes than I do about the other thing! Dear me. There must be a cobbler in Bree, but if there is one an inch closer to the Shire than that, I’ll be blessed for a fool.” 

Thorin went very pale, and grew paler with every word. Unfortunately, Bilbo could not seem to stop rambling on. She had a thousand worries, and all of them came spilling out at once. After quite a while, she concluded, “I am not brave enough to do this alone, Thorin. You must help me, or give me a very good reason why you can't, at least.” 

“You are pregnant,” Thorin said. His voice was gruff, almost strangled. 

Bilbo paused. “You told me you remembered our conversation in the mountain. My Acorn.” 

“Yes,” Thorin said. “You spoke of children! You did not tell me you were currently with child!” His tone was louder now. Almost accusatory. 

Growing angry herself, Bilbo snapped, “Well, I am! And it’s far too late for me to do anything about it except have a baby!” 

“Who is the father?” Thorin demanded, his voice a barely contained thunderstorm.

“You, you dullard!” Bilbo yelled. “Who else could it be?”

At once, Thorin relaxed. As though there was anyone else who could possibly have done the deed. “Good,” he said. 

“No.” Now that Bilbo was on a tear, she had no intention of letting go of her anger so easily. It was a much more comfortable feeling than the sheer mortal terror that came over her when she thought about giving birth to a child with a head the size of Thorin’s. “It is no good at all! Weren’t you listening to me? I don’t know the first thing about raising a child. Bringing up a dwarven baby in the Shire will be nigh impossible!” 

“Then stay,” Thorin said, as though it were the simplest thing in the world. “Stay with me. I have some experience with dwarven lads from when my nephews were young, and Erebor is the best place in the world for a dwarf to grow up. That, I tell you from my own childhood. If I am to be a father, I beg you to stay and let me be a father. Perhaps, in time, you will find it in your heart to make me a husband as well.” 

“Make you a husband?” Bilbo tried to cling to her anger, but the mountain wind took it, blowing Thorin’s hair back like he was charging into battle. “What a strange way to put it! If you asked me to marry you now, I could hardly say no. My other option is to go back to the Shire pregnant and unwed. I cannot imagine what tatters my reputation would be in if I did that.” 

“Do hobbits ask, then?” Thorin tilted his head to the side. “Among dwarves, a dam offers.” 

“Hobbits ask,” Bilbo said, folding her arms over her chest. 

Thorin grinned. “Will you marry me, Bilbo Baggins? I love you with all of my heart, and I fear for my pride if I do not have you at my side to constantly deflate it.” 

Bilbo laughed. “I suppose I will at that,” she said. “Though only if you will kiss me. It has been far too long since you kissed me last, Thorin Oakenshield.” 

And so he did.

**Balin**

As Thorin’s most trusted advisor, it was often Balin’s duty to review private correspondence. Indeed, it was a pleasure to read a letter from Bilbo, no matter the circumstance. Balin was not quite lofty enough to use a raven of Erebor to exchange pleasantries with such a far distant friend.

Yet Bilbo was clearly a clever, devoted correspondent. When she was not sending Thorin his letters back opened, read, and unanswered. 

“I do not know what offended her so,” Thorin growled. His mood was a thunderstorm which broke with the first returned letter. Erebor had seen two months of tempest, and Balin did not expect the weather to clear until Bilbo smiled upon him once more. “I only invited her to Durin’s Day. If she does not want to come, she could simply decline.”

Reading the letters very carefully, Balin had a good idea of what the offense must have been, but he would not speak of such an inappropriate thing before his king. 

“Ask about the Acorn in your next letter,” he advised. “Bilbo will answer.”

Which was exactly what happened, and Thorin’s mood improved dramatically. Still, the matter troubled Balin. He trusted that Thorin was doing everything in his power to court the hobbit from afar, but it was Balin’s duty to clarify the king's messages when necessary. That was why he wrote the language for all of Thorin’s contracts. 

He borrowed a raven and sent a letter of his own to the Shire. Just to explain a few points of dwarven culture. 

Bilbo answered him with a cordial letter that was as careful about the existence of the child as his own had been, but politely answered all of Balin’s questions. There was an undercurrent of excitement that seemed almost out of place with the general tone of such a letter. As expected, there was single sentence toward the end of the missive which mentioned that it was very interesting that ladies proposed in dwarven society. Bilbo had no idea that was generally the case, and she wondered if such a thing needed to be done in person.

Smiling, Balin sent another letter. 

In response, he received two letters with the same raven. One was addressed to him, and the other to Thorin. Apparently Bilbo could not wait a whole month and tell the king what she wished in response to his next scheduled letter. 

Six months after that, Erebor had a queen and a princess for the simple and prudent bride price of an armed escort along the safest paths through the wild. Bilbo did not want to risk any harm coming to her five year old daughter, after all. 

**Gandalf**

Saruman’s fall was a tragedy, of course, but Gandalf could not think of his death as one. Thorin’s halting attempt at an apology was appreciated, but unnecessary. Indeed, Saruman was something akin to an older brother, but even had he turned from evil, Gandalf was not sure he could forgive the maiar. 

At once, in his mind’s eye, he saw Bilbo Baggins as a daring fauntling, waving a wooden sword, eager for adventure; an adventurous burglar, wielding Sting, eager to help the dwarves reclaim their homeland; and a new mother, holding her Acorn, eager to help guide a new life through the wide, wonderful world. 

He saw all of that, but he could not forget Bilbo Baggins, hanging in the air like a rag doll, slowly eviscerated by dark magic. 

She would likely not survive. There was nothing Gandalf could do one way or another, and that hurt him more deeply than he could possibly express. Thorin did not deserve Gandalf’s anger. No one still living on the battlefield of Isengard did. Yet Gandalf was angry. 

“Why did you never ask her to marry you?” He ought to advise Thorin to look to the child. He ought to calm down. This tragedy was no one’s fault but Saruman’s. Yet he was so angry, and Bilbo should have been safe in Erebor. It would have been decades before Saruman built the power to strike at Erebor. Of course, then the ring of Sauron would have been in a mountain of dwarves instead of hidden away in the Shire. It was not Gandalf’s place to question such clearly fated events. He blew smoke, and shaped it into a grey ship. 

“I’m sorry, Thorin,” he said. “You should look to Acorn. You promised Bilbo that you would keep her daughter safe.” 

“And so I will.” Thorin’s voice sounded rough, and strangled. “After you explain. Why would I ask Bilbo to marry me?” The wizard looked at the dwarven king sharply, but Thorin’s eyes were wide and his question seemed genuine. “She made no offer.” 

Gandalf’s heart broke. “Is that all it was? Then in the end, this is my fault, for assuming that you parted because of jewels and pride. Oh, Thorin. Among hobbits, the male asks for marriage. Their wealth is in land for farming, and such property is generally inherited through the male line, when there is a son. It is not like dwarves where the chance to produce a child is so rare that the lady’s freedom to choose becomes paramount.” 

Thorin stared at the wizard for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was no less gruff. “How do I ask? If she lives, how should I?” 

“You are surrounded by hobbits who are better equipped to help you than I,” Gandalf said, “but I believe flowers are traditional.” 

Indeed, once it became clear that Bilbo would live, Gandalf derived a great deal of humor watching Primula Brandybuck teach Thorin Oakenshield how to make bouquets. All of the hobbits agreed that Thorin must put together his proposal posy without any help, and all of the rescued hobbits were eager to help him in every way they could. It was absolutely charming.

When the couple asked him to preside at the wedding, Gandalf was honored beyond words. The love and joy of such a union did more to cleanse the filth of Isengard than any magic ever could. 

**Dis**

Standing upon the dais, Dis looked out over the golden floor of the Hall of Kings as her brother marched in at the head of his army. The dwarves who marched with him were in good health and good spirits, even after a long campaign. The same could not be said for the hobbits. The child was sweet faced and smiling, but her unshod feet were filthy and bruised. Thorin’s love was even worse for wear, pale and swaying. 

Dis greeted the army appropriately, and stood to the side as Thorin made his speech of thanks. Then she dismissed the soldiers to their feasting and rushed to claim Bilbo before anyone else could. 

“Dear me,” she said, trying to be more of a matron than a princess. It was not a difficult transition for a mother of two. “You must be exhausted after such a long day,” she told the child. “I am Dis, Thorin’s sister.” 

“I am Acorn,” the child said boldly, “And I am not tired at all. I want to see the Arkenstone. And the treasure hoard. And the big forge. And go to the feast with everyone. Maybe that first.”

“Acorn!” Bilbo hushed her child. “I am sorry, Lady Dis. I absolutely despair of her manners. I really do.” 

“It is quite all right.” Dis found she did not have to force a smile with Bilbo Baggins as she thought she might. The hobbit really was quite personable. “I know how children at that age can be.” 

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance at long last,” Bilbo said, with firm politeness. “Thorin writes of you often in his letters.” 

The child rolled her eyes, but offered a hand. Dis shook it. “How do you do?” the faunting asked, and Dis was absolutely charmed. 

Bilbo swayed visibly once more. Instantly, Thorin was at her side, putting his arms around her where all could see. Always the romantic, Thorin, and never particularly prudent. The hobbit leaned into him bodily and smiled up at him with dangerous affection. According to Thorin’s most recent letter, the pair was not yet engaged. Canoodling publicly in such a way was wholly inappropriate. 

“Now, now,” Dis said, “it is clearly time to show you your rooms, Master Burglar. Thorin, you escort Miss Acorn Baggins. You have had Bilbo all to yourself for years, and I should like a chance to get to know her.”

Thorin cast a warning glare at Dis. He wasn’t a fool. He recognized at once that she was trying to separate them. Fortunately, he also realized the need for it. Turning to the hobbit, he asked Bilbo if she minded. 

“Not at all,” she said. “I should be very pleased to get to know you sister.” Then, in full view of Dis, Dain, and the entire company, she kissed him on the beard. 

Blushing deeply, Thorin took Acorn by the hand and lead the way to the rooms he spent the last ten years preparing for the hobbit’s return. He walked like a dwarf in a dream, which was a good thing. It meant that the hobbit did not yet make a habit of kissing him so publicly. If she did, he would be used to it. 

“Are you engaged?” Dis demanded quietly, taking Bilbo’s arm to help her along. 

“What?” At least the hobbit had the good grace to blush as well. 

“Have you proposed to my brother? I don’t know how things are done in the Shire, but if you’re going to go around kissing a virgin of the line of Durin in public, I expect you to have the good grace to offer him marriage.” 

Bilbo stopped walking. Her face was very pale.

Immediately, Dis felt guilty. “You are injured still. Now is not the time for this discussion. Please forgive me.” 

“No,” Bilbo said. “It’s fine. Just. None of my dwarven friends have spoken about proposals before.” 

Dis snorted, and they continued walking. “Well, it is hardly their place to speak of marriage to a lady. Make no mistake, though. It is a discussion you and I will have if you take such liberties with my brother again.” 

Bilbo smiled. “My apologies, Lady Dis. I did not realize it was inappropriate. Among hobbits, a kiss on the cheek is quite innocent. Friends and cousins exchange them regularly by way of greeting.” 

“I understand.” Dis nodded frankly. “Just see that it doesn’t happen again until you are engaged.”

“About that,” the hobbit said. “I find our customs differ a great deal. What is involved in the dwarven version? Among hobbits, the one to ask for marriage would offer a bouquet, a home cooked meal, and perhaps a few gifts of affection as well.” 

Hearing that, Dis almost stopped walking in surprise. “That is different indeed,” she said. “A lady would not dream of doing any of that. No, it is the dwarf who must prove himself worthy of the honor, as it should be. All a lady need do is set her intended some task. I told my Vili that I would marry him for a ring of mithril, a cloak of velvet, a blanket of silk for our first child, and a song of love. He was a composer, so that last was easiest, but oh, it was beautiful. I wear the ring still, in memory of him.” 

Dis showed the hobbit her ring, and it was admired appropriately. As the hobbit admired every part of the chambers which Thorin worked so long and hard on, save only the child’s room. When Bilbo reached the door of her daughter’s bedroom, she fell silent, and turned to look at Thorin. Whatever else one could say about her, the burglar was quick witted indeed. It was clear that she knew the room started its life as a study, only being hastily converted into a child’s bedroom by Dis once Thorin left to rescue his hobbits. 

“That is a writing desk,” Bilbo told her daughter, still looking hard at Thorin. “You cannot bead there, Seedling.” 

The child argued that she preferred beading and crafting to reading and writing, which was sensible enough to Dis’s mind. Bilbo answered her by telling her that the fault was in the desk, not Acorn’s preferences, but she was still staring at Thorin. 

Finally, she said, “I will marry you, Thorin Oakenshield, when Acorn has a proper desk to work at. One that is made just for her.” 

The room fell silent. Dis held her breath. Thorin nodded once, gravely. 

“It will be done,” he said. “I will craft it myself immediately.” Then he turned abruptly and strode from the room. Dis tripped him as he went, and he looked at her with absolute betrayal. As though a momentary interruption in his purpose was akin to stabbing him in the back. 

She didn’t laugh at him. Thorin had waited long enough for this. Even so. “Bilbo will walk you to the door,” Dis said pointedly. “Acorn and I will give you a few minutes alone.” 

“Oh.” Thorin looked entirely dumbstruck, but he turned hopefully to offer Bilbo his arm. 

Bilbo did laugh as she took it. “Thank you for your approval, Lady Dis,” she said merrily. “We will not push the bounds of propriety by lingering overlong.” 

Dis was quite certain that this was untrue. Likely their farewell at the door would be as inappropriate as any exchange between two people passionately in love could be, but Dis did not mind. Thorin was so determined to woo his hobbit that the desk would be constructed within a week and the engagement finalized. It was not the most romantic proposal Dis ever witnessed, but she found she could forgive that, too. Clearly, Bilbo was still recovering. Demanding that Thorin make a proper home for their child was perfectly reasonable after all of his failures in that area. 

“Are King Thorin and my mum really going to get married?” Acorn asked. Dis did not know the girl well, but she seemed strangely quiet compared to her enthusiastic explorations earlier. 

“I believe so.” Dis crouched down so that she could meet the child’s gaze directly. “If they do, I shall be your aunt. Fili and Kili will be your cousins. Would you like that?” 

“Yes,” the fauntling whispered. “And will King Thorin be my father?” 

“He will.” 

The grin breaking across Acorn’s face was as incandescent as the dawn itself. “Oh, good.”

It was.


End file.
